Rewind to the Future
by Burnee14
Summary: I thought we would be stuck within this never ending loop forever; She dies, I come back, so that she may live that little bit longer. I had accepted that as my destiny. But we all know destinies are never set in stone. (Set during 2x04 but after 3x08 if that makes sense) Please Read and Review! (Simon and Alisha)- story is completely possible in the misfits universe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first ever Misfits fic I have written, so please give it a chance and keep in mind I have only watched up to 3x08 and probably won't watch any further. Happy Reading!**

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><p><strong>Rewind to the Future<strong>

_**Chapter 1.**_

It all must happen exactly as it did. Your love for someone can be defined by the sacrifices you are willing to make for them. For Alisha, for the limited time we may spend together, my life is all I_ can_ give. I knew somewhere, deep in the recess of my mind that the day would come. I would have to travel back. She would die, because why else would I leave? Why else would I travel back, away from my friends, my family and the love of my life?

Of course I don't want to die. Nobody wants to die. But I need Alisha. She changed me, made me a better person. She gave me the confidence to do what I had never dreamed of doing. And I changed her. We were so improbable, but we happened anyway. We had our hiccups, we broke up, but I would never knowingly hurt her. So I begged for her forgiveness, and she gave it.

As I rush towards where I know she is, I can't help but hope that this isn't the end. All I can see is her light eyes, white smile and mocha skin. Her patience and love. No, I may be Simon, but I would never have been this soppy before. This is the end. Maybe we will find each other in the next life. But I do know now that I can't live without her, not really. Over the last few weeks I have watched Simon, watched _me_, yet I can find very few qualities in both who I was and who I am now. This has to happen. I must die so that she can live. So that we can be together. She'll hurt. I know she will hurt because I was there so witness it. I couldn't understand why she was being so nice to me. Why she _cared._ When I finally found out the reasoning behind her actions, I couldn't bare it.

I couldn't bare the thought of her with the future version of myself. A more confident, more experienced, almost otherworldly version of Simon. When I look in the mirror, I still see me, but since Alisha's death my reflection has become less and less recognisable. This last week has been a gift. The last hoorah for me, yet the first for her. Our endless cycle. I wouldn't have it any other way.

I can't see the future. Maybe because I don't want to. I don't want to see her sat over my burning body. If the pain of seeing me die is anywhere near the pain of seeing her die, then I could not wish that upon her. But I have no choice. Sure, the others offered help, as I knew they would. I couldn't accept. It all had to be exactly as she described it. The only help I would accept was from Seth; the ten thousand pounds to buy my immunity. Yet none of my powers can save me now; not seeing the future, because I already know it. Not being immune, because that won't stop a bullet. Not turning back time, because finally I am all out of it.

I'm on the roof. I'm wearing my black suit. The one she told me to burn. Somewhere in this building is the old gang; Nathan, Kelly, me and Curtis. I can hear Alisha's footfall as she comes ever closer, quickly as she runs. I'm looking at my watch. 9 seconds. What if she hadn't died? 8 seconds. 7 seconds. What if I had never kissed Sally? 6 seconds. 5 seconds. What if I'd never attempted arson? 4 seconds. 3 seconds. I don't know the answer to any of these watifs, because as she screams at him that it's just a game and he utters his last words, 'this is my life', I step off and down. In-between the gun and the girl I love.

It hits me square and hard. There would be no recovering from a wound like that. Not that I had wanted to. I fall to the ground and she falls with me, taking my weight and cradling me like I was the most precious thing in the world.

"I am the undercover cop" I grunt. I can feel the cold metal lodged in my chest, tightening after every laboured breath.

He just turns, and he walks away. Just like her was supposed to, just like I knew he would.

He would be caught tomorrow. I know, because I was the one that saw it in the newspaper. I was the one that told everyone. I was the one that saw Alisha, clearly upset, and asked if she was okay, then, like the coward I was, I turned and left the centre. Maybe this is what happens when you die. You get taken on a journey down memory lane. I don't think I could deal with that.

I can hear her whimpering.

"Hold on. I'll call an ambulance." She mutters, taking out her phone with one hand whilst her other grips the material of my suit.

I just shake my head at her.

"It has to be like this" I repeat the words that have been drumming their consistent rhythm in my conscious for days.

"Why?" she asks, confused.

"So we can be together"

"No! No, I won't let you die" she cries.

"You have to" I gasp. "Or I'll never be this person"

"No. I can't do this." She whispers, shaking me again, staring down into my eyes.

"It's going to be okay" and it will be, up until that Medium decided to walk into town.

I open my pocket and take out a small box of matches. Nobody can know it was me. Not yet. I pass them to her, though my hand trembles with the effort.

"You have to do something." I say, and turn towards the fuel I knew to be there. I point. "There is petrol in that can." She just shakes her head, eyes dancing with tears.

"No one can know it's me" I tell her. "Promise me you won't tell him" though I know it's no good, because she did, which means she will. "Promise me"

She grabs onto my hands.

"You can't die. I love you."

"I'll still be here" I reason, though there is a hitch in my voice at her words.

"I don't love _him_. I love _you_" she says, shaking my body.

"But it's you falling in love with him… that makes him become me"

I look up into her eyes and know it's time. I can feel a cold gripping me.

"It's all coming together" I choke out.

I hold her gaze. And then I die. But it's okay. Because I will see her again. It's our never ending cycle.

Or so I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again. Please do review if you have the time! This chapter is basically a set up for the story. Leave any thoughts or things that you would want to happen in later chapters and I will try to include them amidst my plot.**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 2<strong>_

I open my eyes onto the night sky. Above me the moon reflects the sun's rays and the stars are just barely visible due to the city's light pollution. Some would think I am gazing up into heaven. Heaven being envisioned as a place of peace, beauty and fluffy white clouds. Maybe I would to, if it wasn't for the thick stench of burning petrol, so strong that it is nearly suffocating. For the flicker of a moment, I think I'm still burning; still alight from Alisha's match. But I feel no pain. Only a stiffness and tingling sensation spread out over my skin like electricity.

It's cold. Even as I gasp for breath, that I had assumed I no longer needed, I can see my breath visibly merge into the air. And, rather embarrassingly, I'm butt naked.

"What the hell?" I gasp, turning my head to the side.

I choke on my words and, as I cough, a steady stream of ash comes out of my mouth, bitter and dry. I assume that it is just the leftovers of my cremation.

I imagined that being a ghost would be unpleasant, but I didn't quite picture feeling so… well, me. After I've finished heaving and the last of the dust leaves my lungs, I sit up.

There are scorch marks surrounding where I currently reside, the floor is still slightly warm, though the fire seems to have died quite some time ago. My suit is now non-existent, so I grab an old tarp from the side of the room and drape it about myself, shivering. In a sad way, Alisha got her wish in the end. I did burn the suit. Super-hoodie is no more.

It's deathly quiet. It was daytime when I was shot, so the others would have returned to the centre by now, free from that mental gamer. My mind is still cluttered with emotions, the ones I felt when I died. Love, anger, desperation and hopelessness. That's the end of it. I did what I needed to do. I'm dead. And that's all there is to it. Yet somehow, I've never felt more alive.

My feet slap off the concrete as I walk. I don't know where I'm going or if I'll ever find 'peace'. I could live eternally in my flat, but that would be too damn depressing even for me. And Alisha would be there. I can't face her, even if she can't see me. The thought of being watched over by a future ghost version of myself is not a comforting thought.

I wonder aimlessly for a while. Down side streets, along the edge of the lake, but I never see a soul. Everyone is sleeping. It's just me.

Even as a ghost, I still seem to feel temperatures. So, I make it my priority to go and find some clothes. I don't really know the rules of being a ghost. Here I was thinking that you wear what you die in, but then again I've never seen a ghost, so I wouldn't know. I pick up a hoodie and a pair of jeans from the clothing recycle unit near the centre. At least in death I can still wear my clothing of choice. The solitary nature of being a ghost doesn't really bother me; I've been alone for months before, unable to interact with anyone lest they find out it was me behind the mask all along.

I go and sit down on one of the benches we were first tasked with painting during our community service all those months ago. A lot has changed since then. I've had more change in these past months then I've had over the rest of my entire life, not that it was as long as I'd hoped for.

I rest my head in my hands and crouch down, staring out at the Lake that would usually bring back memories of my litter-picking days, side by side with my friends. Now it just brings me pain; those days are over. Nathan would be cracking some innuendo that, even now, I probably wouldn't understand. Curtis would be moaning, Kelly would ranting and Alisha would have her head tilted to the sun, soaking in the rays and listening to whatever song she fancied at the time. And I would be there, taking it all in, and smiling inwardly at the goings on. Even when Nathan left to travel to Vegas, we had Rudy and his other self to lighten the mood. Community service wasn't a chore; it was the best time of my life.

I must have dozed off at some point during the night, because I awake to the early hours of a new day. I wasn't even aware that ghosts needed sleep, but I certainly feel better for a few hours shut-eye. Now I'm just hungry.

Before I even know what I'm doing, I take off walking to the nearest café. I have no money, but that was never a problem when I was invisible, because I could just take things. In a way, becoming a ghost has made me invisible again, just permanently this time. Just like the good old days where the biggest problem was our probation worker. I don't usually agree with stealing, but I figure I can cut myself some slack considering I died not twelve hours ago.

I walk in and am greeted by the smell of coffee and pastries, a hundred times more pleasant than the burning smell I can't seem to shift from my skin and hair. I amble up to the counter to gaze upon the breakfast selection. My mouth waters; it feels as though I haven't eaten for days. I don't need to bother with the protein rich diet I had been forcing myself to keep to in order to bulk up.

Just when I'm about to reach my hand over for a croissant I stop, shocked. The lady behind the counter is staring at me expectantly. But she can't be. She shouldn't be able to see me.

"Can I help you?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

My mouth drops open and I look behind myself to see that she was, indeed, talking to me. I was the only one there.

"Wait. You can see me?" I ask incredulously.

Then it dawns on me that she must be another medium, like Nathan and that other guy that brought back Sally. Everyone around here seems to have been affected in one way or another by the storm.

"Have you been drinking?" she asks, amused. "A little early don't you think?"

"No. I- You're not a medium?" I say, still confused.

"I don't know if you're referring to a clothing size or something else entirely but I presume that the answer will be no either way" she replies, talking slowly.

"But- I'm dead." I say, squinting my eyes at her, as if that would make the problem go away.

She gives me a look.

"I'm not crazy!" I growl back. Though even as I say it, I begin to doubt my own sanity.

She raises her hands. "Look, do you need me to call anyone? Or-"

I'm already out the door before she has time to finish her sentence. I pull up my hoodie and stick my hands in my pockets, warranting me a few more suspicious looks from people those who have decided to get up early. I should be invisible. They shouldn't be able to see me. What the hell is happening? What did I do wrong?

Before I know what to do, I sprint up a side-ally and begin to climb upwards. My muscles strain as I loop myself up and over walls and jump over gaps from one building to another. I reach my favourite perching point and look out across at the community centre. The swans are still milling about, gliding on the water's surface as the sun comes up. It's still earth. It's still England.

I crouch down and put my face in my hands. Something has gone wrong. Terribly wrong. I must have jumped back in time, or forward. But I can't do that. That's not my power. I can only go back.

I need to know what day it is.

I hop off and down, frantically flipping over balconies and concrete structures until I spot someone ambling along by themselves, clutching a newspaper. I jump in front of them, stopping them in their tracks.

"Look, I have no money on me" he begins to flinch away, but I merely reach a hand out and take the newspaper off of him.

I leave him gaping and quickly scan the front page. It's a cover I've seen before.

"MURDERER ARRESTED"

And the date… The day after we were all hanging from our arms, chained up to meat hooks.

"But that's not possible" I say, shaking the paper, flipping from page to page in disbelief.

I look up into the terrified eyes of the man and breathe in. He can see me to. The whole bloody world can see me.

"I'm sorry. I- I've got to go" I return the newspaper into his arms and start sprinting off down the road, not looking back.

Before I've had any real time to process anything, I am at the door to my old flat. But then I remember I don't have the keys. I kick out at the wall in frustration. I don't know what's happening. I don't know what's happening. How can this be happening? What have I done?

I hear the lift come to a stop inside the block, the screeching metal all too familiar, and have only a second to jump out of sight before Alisha comes out. She's a mess. Her face is stained with more tears, her hair is tatty and when she turns to lock up behind herself, her hand shakes uncontrollably.

I resist the urge to rush out of my hiding place, behind the bins, and hug her. I can't. I died, or at least I should have. Until I figure out what the hell is going on I can't possibly reveal myself. So I follow her, at a safe distance. She needs to get on with her life, with me. The other me.

All I know if that when a person dies, they are meant to stay dead. I'm dead. I was shot. Then my body was burned to a crisp. Curtis doesn't know about me and he doesn't have the power to bring people back yet, and I don't have the overwhelming need to drink blood.

I pinch myself and groan at the cliché action. It's not a dream and that freaking hurt. I'm the clever one. I should know what's going on.

I didn't change anything. I did everything exactly how it happened; how it should have happened. I help them out, I see Alisha those last few times, I go to the rooftop, I jump, I die and then I burn. Nothing there explains how I'm now walking about and functioning like a person very much alive. Unless... No. I stop in my tracks. That's not possible. I would have known. Would I? No. They would have done it anyway. But I can make it work. I can save her. I can keep my promise. Unless I'm wrong... But I don't think I'm wrong. Seth. He gave it to me. He must have.

I'm immortal.


End file.
